


But now you make me feel so ashamed

by quietwandering



Series: What Difference Does It Make? [2]
Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25564690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietwandering/pseuds/quietwandering
Summary: Because I've only got two hands
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Andy Rourke, Johnny Marr/Morrissey
Series: What Difference Does It Make? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852636
Comments: 14
Kudos: 12





	But now you make me feel so ashamed

**Author's Note:**

> This was strangely difficult for me to write. My motivation has been a bit strained, but - I wanted to post something anyways. I'm very sorry if this isn't the best though ;-;
> 
> As I start to work on my next long piece (Johnny/Moz, I think, though I've another Chris/Neil idea on the back burner, too), I also wanted to be sure to [link my Tumblr](https://mooseyspooky.tumblr.com/). I post updates there from time to time as I write <3
> 
> Title is still [What Difference Does it Make?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XbOx8TyvUmI) by The Smiths

The meeting had been strenuous to say the least. Of course I was crushed to hear _How Soon is Now_ being snubbed but worse than that was pretending to ignore how Johnny's mouth worked over his sweet the entire time, his mouth swollen and red and far too distracting. The look on Moz's face made it clear enough what he was up to, and when I stepped out the door with Mike I already knew I’d not be getting in the cab with him. 

“No, no. Go ahead, forgot something in the studio is all.” 

Mike just shrugged and got into the cab, barely saying a word to me in parting. This wasn't the first time I'd stayed behind when Johnny and Moz clearly wanted to be alone, but hey - everyone else seemed comfortable ignoring their proclivities, right? No one ever asked why Johnny was in Moz's hotel room, never asked why they held hands in the back of the van. No one wanted to talk about the love bites all down Morrissey's neck when he was meant to be celibate. And therein was the problem with this goddamn band - no one ever wanted to state the bloody obvious. 

I reflected on that till the cab turned the corner and disappeared from view. I hurried back inside, out of the chilly London air, and my heart pounded in anticipation. I was well aware that I shouldn't be this excited to sneak a look at my best mate snogging our singer, but it was addictive somehow - the rush of seeing them in private, hidden away from everyone in a world of their own. It was a far better high than heroin or that first bump of cocaine in the morning - when you'd feel your fingertips buzzing to greet the day. That shit was dull in comparison to watching them go at it, limbs and tongues hopelessly tangled.

I approached the production studio with soft steps, barely breathing as I eased the door open just enough to see inside. Just as I had thought, Morrissey was sat sprawled in Johnny's lap with Johnny's hand roughly rubbing between his legs. I near bit through my lip to keep myself from moaning at the sight of it. Johnny was whispering something into Morrissey's ear, making him gasp, and I'd have given anything to be able to hear what it was.

They suddenly went tumbling to the floor as Morrissey began to come, the chair legs flying every which way, and I had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Johnny struggling to get out from under him. There was a bit of a scuffle, Moz didn't want to move from what I could tell, but Johnny was soon able to get to his feet, a playful smirk on his face as he unzipped his jeans. “ _Think you can return the favor_?”

I should've turned away. This wasn't meant for me to see, I knew that, but I couldn't help myself when I saw Johnny's fingers curl into Morrissey's hair, like they belonged there. Johnny teased the head of his cock across Morrissey's lips, and my dick throbbed in response, stomach churning with a mix of arousal and shame that I was so turned on by this. 

Johnny pushed into Morrissey's mouth with little resistance, forcing a soft moan from his throat, and I was too far gone to care anymore - I gripped the wall with one hand and hastily shoved the other down the front of my trousers. I could barely move with how little room I had, but I didn't dare to try and do anything more than palm myself. I could take my time later - when I was alone in my bed and re-imagining every second of this in my mind’s eye. 

Johnny leaned against the mixing desk as he rhythmically worked himself in and out of Morrissey's mouth, and I could see the deep flush of Moz’s cheeks as he just _took_ it, spit dripping down his chin and onto the carpet. He looked obscenely beautiful on his knees, I thought, with that gritted determination still etched into the crease of his brow, his blue eyes staring up at Johnny with a sense of longing I'd never be able to really grasp. They were two sides of the same coin, able to think and move in parallel to one another, and it pained me to accept that at times. I had known Johnny for so much longer, but the music he played for me in my room, late at night when we were more than a bit drunk, never sounded quite as good as it did for Moz. 

A loud gasp pulled me from my thoughts. Johnny's head had dropped back. His lips were slightly parted and his chest heaved as he tried to breathe through the pleasure coursing through him. _Fuck_ , he looked good like that. I bit at the inside of my cheek to try and hold back a whimper, but it slipped out anyways - thankfully neither of them seemed to notice. 

Morrissey put his hands on Johnny's hips, maybe to steady him, or maybe to just hold him, and started to suck a bit more carelessly. Wet, vulgar noises filled the room, and it made my cheeks hot with arousal. Thank god no one else seemed to be around right now. It'd be painfully obvious what was going on in here.

"Fuck, oh _fuck_ -" Johnny began to tremble from head to toe . He was coming, I realized, and I felt my knees give out as I did the same. I clutched at myself as come began to soak my underwear, and I prayed it didn't noticeably stain my jeans. "Fuck - c'mere."

Johnny sunk down to press his lips against Morrissey's own. The kiss was heated but still remarkably gentle, full of affection. I stared, glassy eyed, and tried to will myself up from the floor. I needed to walk away before I was seen, I couldn’t stay here, but as I watched the motions of their tongues I realized Johnny's eyes were wide open - and staring right at me with a knowing look. My breath caught as he pulled back with a coy smile on his face, and I stumbled up and away as fast as my clumsy feet were able to go. _Fuck_.


End file.
